


He Will...

by Zodiac



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Drabbles, Gen, Happy little fluff about Khoshekh being okay because we all need it after that episode, Post episode 43
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1360156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zodiac/pseuds/Zodiac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After dealing with the Strexpet and wrapping up the show, Cecil rushes out to the animal hospital to await news for Khoshekh. Luckily for him, he isn't alone with just his thoughts for long as Carlos arrives soon after to keep him company while he waits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Will...

**Author's Note:**

> I was accepting drabble prompts because it was spring break for me and I had plenty of time to kill and this was immediately after episode 43, so a friend suggested the prompt 'Khoshekh being okay' to me. We all could use some happy Khoshekh stuff after that upsetting episode, so here it is.

Words are powerful things. Cecil Palmer knew this fact all-too well. Words were his profession, were all that he focused on from age fifteen onwards. Words were his sword and shield that he used to combat all of the horrors he and all of the townsfolk of Night Vale faced on a daily basis. Words were what allowed him to rally the citizens into action or to inform them that the danger they faced today was too great for even them and that they must cower in the nearest safe place until he dictated that the town was just as safe as their chosen shelters. Words were what gave him some form of control over his tumultuous life.

But now… Now even words had failed him.

He was sitting in the lobby of the Night Vale animal hospital, just sitting, hands braced against his knees, eyes cast down, spine slightly bent so that he curled in on himself. Normally a visit to the vet or anyplace similar meant cooing to the chittering spiderwolves belonging to the people waiting or instructing children how to properly hold their pet table saws or pit vipers (Which was any possible way their chubby little hands could grip them, of course.) But now he was uncharacteristically withdrawn, even with Carlos seated right beside him. He arrived shortly after Cecil did, consoling him as best as he could with his indirect methods of communication and awkward way of managing to insert science into everything. Eventually though, he just gave up attempting to cheer him up verbally, instead just offering his hand, shoulder, whatever Cecil needed to squeeze or lean against to make himself feel better.

The fact of the matter was that Khoshekh was Cecil’s baby, not Carlos’. He had been spending time with him in the station bathroom before and after his show aired for roughly two years now and Carlos only rarely got to see him whenever he went to visit Cecil at work. With the interns dying as often as they can be replaced, Cecil was pretty much the only constant present in Khoshekh’s life other than his home in that bathroom. Carlos did not have the sort of bond with Khoshekh that Cecil had built up over time, but he does know that that cat is one of the dearest things to his radio host’s heart and that dear thing was struck down in a ghastly fashion, so any comfort he could offer was certainly welcome.

So they waited for half an hour, a span of time which felt like an eternity to both of them. It was spent in mostly silence, but, about halfway through, Carlos noticed that Cecil had begun to mutter to himself. This was an oddity even with how odd Cecil usually was since his words always had a designated audience, but these couldn’t have been directed towards him or anyone around them, so Carlos simply had to assume that he was talking to himself. Or to no one, it was honestly difficult to tell.

“He _will_ live…” He muttered resolutely, eyes staring at the reception desk, but not focused on it. “He _will_ float contently in the station bathroom once again even if I need to nurse him back to his full strength myself… I am saying this and, in saying it, _violently_ believe it to be true… Khoshekh will be alright, _he will_ …”

He would finish his miniature speech, then repeat it right from the beginning, a soothing mantra to keep his mind from bubbling over with thoughts of all the many ways the surgery could possibly go wrong.

Words were all that he had on his side and he was going to use them to his advantage every possible way he could.

So the time ticked on, Cecil’s chant slowly merging with the background noise so it seemed as commonplace as the hum of air conditioning or chatter in a crowded room. It was so ingrained into the surrounding environment that Carlos only realized that Cecil’s attention had been drawn to something else once he had stopped murmuring. Lifting his head up, he saw that there was a nurse wearing scrubs slightly more bloodstained than usual approaching them and that Cecil’s eyes were staring at her with enough intensity to bore holes in her, were he a resident of Night Vale that was gifted laser vision upon birth.

“Mister Palmer?” The nurse asked, tapping something that was most definitely not a pen against the clipboard in her hands. It wasn’t like anyone really had to ask Cecil’s name; everyone in town knew his face, but it was a required formality. Regardless, he nodded. “Well, have we got good news for you! Your _little buddy_ , Khoshekh, pulled through and, given plenty of time and loving care, will make a complete recovery!”

Carlos definitely wasn’t expecting Cecil to pull him simultaneously into a tight embrace and an ecstatic kiss upon hearing the news, but he certainly found no reason to complain about it either, not when his boyfriend was so overwhelmingly relieved.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and wanted to screech at me in a manner similar to socializing, then you can find my Tumblr right [here](http://catsandcomposers.tumblr.com/).


End file.
